HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HONEY~! [INCOMPLETE] [PARTY]
Who: Honey + Company 8D [SUPER OPEN!!! COME FOR FREE CAKE]
When: Saturday, 1 March
Where: Lower Level cafe
Rating: TBA
Warnings: TBA
Summary: Honey's birthday party commences! Nineteen years of cuteness, bunnies, and cake addictions! (Mun felt wordy. Forgive me for length.)
Pink, yellow, blue, orange, white streamers.
Ballons of the same colours, in multiples, in several locations, in varied sizes.
A net of confetti suspended below the ceiling.
A large, white canvas banner, reading in cute, big, colourful letters a simple "Happy Birthday, Honey! ♥"
His name was really Mitsukuni. But no one here had called him that yet, even though he'd thrown it out occassionally (usually when he was serious and trying to prove himself off as a threat to some person, which was a rare thing for him to do). He was Honey through and through, regardless.
Even though he hadn't been called Honey all his life, and really only the past two or three years, he had been Mistukuni forever --- to him, forever was nineteen years.
For living for nineteen years, Honey had little to show of it. He was short --- very short --- at four feet, ten inches; he was very light in weight; he acted and spoke, for the most part, like a child --- but everyone thought he was adourable, so it wasn't really a bad thing, and he had bragging rights for being the oldest cutie pie in Purgatorium (and anywhere else he went). And on top of that, he had a miserable (not to him) fancy for cakes, cookies, pastries, and sweets in general. (It was so far as that he was dedicated enough to learn to say those things he loves in five different languages --- just in case.)
He was in the top percentile of his seniour class as far as grades and intelligence went, and he had always rightly proclaimed himself as an achieved martial artist, and he was even an esteemed and experienced Host to all the 'princesses' who attended the Host Club; Honey could speak three different languages, and on top of that was the eldest son of one of the most prestigious and traditional family in all of Japan...
But he loved cake more.
Across the cafe, at various locations, littered nineteen in counting cakes. One for each year of his hopeless obsesssion? Perhaps, but perhaps not.
Honey was ecstatic.
He bounced from place to place, spot to spot, clad in a nice, frilly white blouse and black dress trousers. He and Usachan wore matching brooches at their necks, Usachan in a black bow-tie; atop both of their heads were matching party hats. (Located on a stand at the front of the cafe, please take a courtesy party hat, visitors welcome, Happy Birthday! ♥)
The Host Club was hosting this party.
There was a table for presents, several tables for eating (or generally sitting), and games across the room. In general, it looked like a child's party. Perhaps slightly more elegant than usual, but nonetheless childish.
It was his birthday. Honey knew it. And he let the rest of the world know it, too, by dancing, and singing, and beaming as if his face would fall off if he stopped.
Usachan was ready. And Honey was even more ready, and had been for nineteen years.
When: Saturday, 1 March
Where: Lower Level cafe
Rating: TBA
Warnings: TBA
Summary: Honey's birthday party commences! Nineteen years of cuteness, bunnies, and cake addictions! (Mun felt wordy. Forgive me for length.)
Pink, yellow, blue, orange, white streamers.
Ballons of the same colours, in multiples, in several locations, in varied sizes.
A net of confetti suspended below the ceiling.
A large, white canvas banner, reading in cute, big, colourful letters a simple "Happy Birthday, Honey! ♥"
His name was really Mitsukuni. But no one here had called him that yet, even though he'd thrown it out occassionally (usually when he was serious and trying to prove himself off as a threat to some person, which was a rare thing for him to do). He was Honey through and through, regardless.
Even though he hadn't been called Honey all his life, and really only the past two or three years, he had been Mistukuni forever --- to him, forever was nineteen years.
For living for nineteen years, Honey had little to show of it. He was short --- very short --- at four feet, ten inches; he was very light in weight; he acted and spoke, for the most part, like a child --- but everyone thought he was adourable, so it wasn't really a bad thing, and he had bragging rights for being the oldest cutie pie in Purgatorium (and anywhere else he went). And on top of that, he had a miserable (not to him) fancy for cakes, cookies, pastries, and sweets in general. (It was so far as that he was dedicated enough to learn to say those things he loves in five different languages --- just in case.)
He was in the top percentile of his seniour class as far as grades and intelligence went, and he had always rightly proclaimed himself as an achieved martial artist, and he was even an esteemed and experienced Host to all the 'princesses' who attended the Host Club; Honey could speak three different languages, and on top of that was the eldest son of one of the most prestigious and traditional family in all of Japan...
But he loved cake more.
Across the cafe, at various locations, littered nineteen in counting cakes. One for each year of his hopeless obsesssion? Perhaps, but perhaps not.
Honey was ecstatic.
He bounced from place to place, spot to spot, clad in a nice, frilly white blouse and black dress trousers. He and Usachan wore matching brooches at their necks, Usachan in a black bow-tie; atop both of their heads were matching party hats. (Located on a stand at the front of the cafe, please take a courtesy party hat, visitors welcome, Happy Birthday! ♥)
The Host Club was hosting this party.
There was a table for presents, several tables for eating (or generally sitting), and games across the room. In general, it looked like a child's party. Perhaps slightly more elegant than usual, but nonetheless childish.
It was his birthday. Honey knew it. And he let the rest of the world know it, too, by dancing, and singing, and beaming as if his face would fall off if he stopped.
Usachan was ready. And Honey was even more ready, and had been for nineteen years.